


Tony Stark Gives Up

by copperbadge



Series: Tales of the Bots [5]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, tales of the bots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes home to find JARVIS very worried about the erratic behavior of the Stark boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tony Stark Gives Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scifigrl47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigrl47/gifts).



> This was written for Sci, who was having an awful week. (Just awful.)

"Welcome home, Captain Rogers," JARVIS said, the minute Steve set foot in Stark Tower.

About ten other people in the lobby looked up.

Steve didn’t usually enter through the lobby, since he had his own spot in the garage and at any rate he liked the back ways of Stark Tower better — the lobby was too clean, too polished, too much Stark pretension that Steve knew very well hid something a lot more vulnerable.

But when he did enter through the lobby, JARVIS never greeted him in public. JARVIS didn’t speak in public much.

"Ah, hello, JARVIS," he said, hurrying towards the secure elevator. JARVIS must want his attention very badly indeed. He hustled past the security guard, who gave him a smile and a nod, and slipped into the elevator, already waiting with its doors open. "What’s up?" he asked, as soon as they shut. He was already reaching for the bag that held his shield.

"I am very glad to see you home, Captain," JARVIS said fervently.

"Is it Tony?" Steve asked, and then, swallowing, "Is it DJ?"

"A little of each."

"Are we looking at a hostage situation?" Steve asked, as the elevator sped him upwards fast enough he was probably going to hit a few seconds of free-fall at the top. "Can you answer freely?"

"Sir and DJ are engaging in behavior beyond my parameters," JARVIS said, as the elevator stopped. Steve did the little almost-zero-G bounce, then bolted through the doors into the hallway that led to the workshop.

"Dangerous?" Steve asked.

"I’m uncertain," JARVIS replied. The door swung open -- at least Tony hadn’t locked the workshop down. Steve ran inside and skidded to a stop when he saw Tony lying on the floor, DJ collapsed in a heap on his chest.

"Tony?" he asked, dropping to his knees. Tony huffed, but he didn’t look injured. DJ looked at Steve tearfully. "Deej? What’s going on?"

"We give up," Tony announced.

DJ rubbed his nose. “Give up,” he echoed mournfully.

Steve paused.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.

"We’re cranky," Tony said, gesturing at DJ behind his back. DJ snuffled again. "We gave up. We officially gave up."

"Je — Gee, Tony," Steve caught himself, glancing at DJ’s big sad eyes. "I thought you were hurt, or hostage or something. You’re scaring JARVIS."

"Cranky," DJ repeated, and faceplanted forward into Steve’s chest. Steve curled an arm around him and hefted him off Tony, letting DJ grab his shirt and burrow into it.

"Bad day?" he asked Tony, who sighed and stared up at the ceiling, nodding. Steve stroked DJ’s hair. "So you gave up," he said, just a little amused.

"Gave up," DJ said. Steve noticed several half-finished projects, including one that was still either smoking or steaming, strewn about the workshop.

"Well, sometimes you need a break," Steve allowed, lifting the tail of his shirt to wipe DJ’s face. "You guys have lunch?"

"He wasn’t hungry," Tony said, sounding pained. Steve suspected it was code for ‘wouldn’t eat a damn thing’.

"Okay," Steve soothed, rising to his feet with DJ propped in his arms. DJ squirmed unhappily, nearly kicking him in the abdomen. "Nuh uh, DJ, no kicking." 

DJ made a soft wailing noise and twisted his body. Steve, in one swift move, tugged his own shirt over his head from behind, flipped it over DJ’s, and set him on the sofa. DJ, suddenly covered in blue cotton and nestled in the cushions, looked like he was confused over how he felt about all this. It was the exact same expression Tony got when Steve did something unexpectedly thoughtful (Steve personally felt he was thoughtful all the time, but Tony never seemed to anticipate kindness). He looked like he was about to decide on bursting into tears when Steve held up a finger, said “Nuh uh,” again, and kissed his forehead. DJ crossed his arms under the shirt and leaned back sullenly against the sofa. 

Tony was still lying on the floor of the workshop, which frankly had seen cleaner days, so Steve went back over and grabbed a hand, hauling him up. Stark the Elder, at least, went willingly, leaning into Steve’s warmth as soon as he was vertical.

"So is this a family affair, or has DJ just gotten on your last nerve?" Steve asked in his ear.

"Both?" Tony ventured.

"Mmhm. Okay, go tend the little one," Steve replied, heading for the fridge. There was leftover soup in there, he was pretty sure, and DJ had a weakness for miso broth. 

He decanted some of the broth into a mug, poured the remaining mass of noodles and vegetables into a bowl, and put both in the microwave, rummaging for chopsticks in the tool drawer. He came up with a set wrapped in paper (a bonus) and shoved them into the steaming noodles, carrying the mug and bowl back to the sofa, where Tony was unsuccessfully trying to coax DJ into his lap. 

"Here, hold this," he said, offering the lukewarm broth to DJ. DJ made a face. "I didn’t say eat it, I said hold it, please," he said sternly, and DJ reluctantly accepted the mug, poking one of his arms through the armhole of Steve’s shirt.

Steve slung himself down next to Tony, offered him the bowl of noodles, and then leaned around him to DJ.

"Thanks for holding it. Can I have it now?" he asked. DJ, who had bent his head over the mug to inhale the aroma, stuck his lip out. "Oh, you want it?"

DJ looked torn. Steve grinned. “If you don’t want it, DJ, you have to give it to me. Sure you don’t want a sip?”

Without taking his eyes off Steve, DJ lifted the mug to his mouth and took a deep, rebellious slurp. Steve waited for it; after a few seconds, DJ clambered over Tony’s legs, keeping the mug steady through some miracle of dexterity, and plopped himself down in the seam between Steve’s hip and Tony’s. He slurped from the mug again, then offered it to Steve.

"Thank you for sharing," Steve said, sipping lightly and passing it back. DJ practically cuddled the warm mug, while Tony tugged a blanket down around his shoulder, forming a sort of tent awning over DJ’s head. Steve leaned over to rest his head on said shoulder, enclosing DJ even tighter and accepting a bean sprout when Tony offered it to him, delicately perched in the chopsticks. DJ heaved a loud sigh, and Tony rolled his eyes and provided him with a zig-zag-cut carrot. 

"Sometimes days are just awful," Steve said, enjoying the weight of DJ against his hip and the smell of weld and oil on Tony’s neck. 

"Just awful," DJ agreed. 

"And it’s okay to give up for a little while," Steve continued. DJ intercepted a noodle meant for Steve with one hand, grabbing it out of the chopsticks. 

"Brat," Tony said. 

"You just have to remember that it won’t be forever," Steve concluded. "And sooner or later I’ll show up with soup."

DJ took another noodle, looking up at him guilelessly. “Promise?”

Steve kissed Tony’s shoulder, then rubbed DJ’s hair. “Promise.” 

DJ nodded and leaned back into the little tent formed by the blanket, cuddling down in Steve’s shirt. Steve breathed deep and even, and after about thirty seconds, he gently eased the mug out of DJ’s sleepy grip. Tony deposited a mass of noodles into the mug, and Steve sipped from it peacefully. 

"That’s a nice thing to tell him," Tony said. "I wasn’t having much luck with the old _Starks never say die_ line.”

"So you succumbed to ennui?"

"Well, I thought, what would Dad do in this situation, and then did the opposite."

"It’s not a bad strategy, I suppose. I’m sure sooner or later he’ll absorb your essentially self-destructive attitude towards defeat," Steve replied. "I’m just trying to postpone the inevitable."

"Mmhm," Tony agreed. "Thank you."

"I couldn’t let the pair of you give up for good. It’s just un-American," Steve said, and Tony grinned.


End file.
